


Lunch

by TheWorkoftheHeart



Series: Papa Zeff and the Little Eggplant [4]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Birthday, Cooking, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, I swear to God, Lunch, Mild Hurt/Comfort, References to Whole Cake Island, Sanji Is Not A Vinsmoke, it's cute!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWorkoftheHeart/pseuds/TheWorkoftheHeart
Summary: The pride he felt was immeasurable. Finally, the first meal he’s gotten to make completely on his own, no supervision from the other chefs. Just him and the kitchen. Cooking for actual people. Cooking for someone he cared about.
Series: Papa Zeff and the Little Eggplant [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715152
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	Lunch

At last, it was complete. The oven was beeping and it drove Sanji from his thoughts; he ran to the oven and placed the oversized mitts on his hands, pulling the handle down to reach for the tray inside. It smelled hot and he wrinkled his nose, trying to keep tears from flooding his eyes. 

It was Zeff’s birthday today, and Sanji wanted to do something special for him. It took a lot longer than it should have to figure out what his favorite food was- spicy chicken wings, if you’d believe it- and even longer to find a recipe hidden away among hundreds of scrawled out seafood recipes that the crew had written since the Baratie’s creation. But they found it, a recipe Zeff had written and tucked away, and Sanji worked and worked until it reached perfection. He even made sides for it, just to give Zeff something extra to pair it with.

The pride he felt was immeasurable. Finally, the first meal he’s gotten to make completely on his own, no supervision from the other chefs. Just him and the kitchen. Cooking for actual people. Cooking for someone he cared about.

He carefully spread the meal into a silver lunchbox, putting the salad in one square, the chicken in another, and a handmade sauce in the final one. Once it looked decidedly fancy enough, Sanji snapped the lid shut and fiddled with the latches until they held taut in place. This meal was going to be perfect.

Sanji took the lunchbox into his hands like a tray and stepped off the small stool he used to keep him at counter-level, and began making his way to the living quarters. He was bubbling with excitement. Finally, he was able to make something delicious! He’d worked so hard since he’d started working here, making sure his food would be the best that the East Blue had ever known. He was excited for Zeff to try his lunch, excited to give him the best birthday meal he’d ever seen. 

As Sanji finally crested the stairwell, he felt his foot slip under the wooden plank. He couldn’t stop himself from stumbling, and he pulled the lunchbox to his chest to keep it from spilling as he collapsed against the floor with a loud thud. Panic surged through him. What if the lunch was ruined? What if it was all fucked up, what then? For a moment, he felt déjà vu; he brushed it off as he stood up, not wanting to pay it any mind. He needed to give Zeff his birthday lunch. 

It wasn’t a far walk down the corridor before he reached Zeff’s bedroom, marked by a knife-carving of a “Z” on the old driftwood base. The curtains on the porthole window were open, and Sanji could hear Zeff fumbling about in his room, likely getting ready to start the day. Sanji took a deep breath as he approached the door and knocked on it.

“Come in,” comes the gruff response. Sanji opens the door and lets himself inside.

Zeff looks a little surprised to see Sanji standing there, but he smirks nonetheless. “What a surprise. D’ya need somethin’?”

Sanji shakes his head. He holds out the silver lunchbox, ignoring how his hands tremble, ignoring his anxiety of a potentially-ruined meal. “I made you lunch. Your favorite.”

“And how’d you figure out my favorite?” Zeff asks. He takes a seat on his bed, patting the spot next to him for his son to sit down. Sanji quickly makes his way over, holding the lunchbox as steady as he can.

“I asked around! I asked Patty and Carne and they both told me what you like.”

“Damned snitches,” he curses, and he smiles when the young chef laughs. Sanji passes the lunchbox over.

The moment Zeff opens it, Sanji’s face falters. It was _ruined_. All the delicate preparations to keep everything separated, how intricately he’d placed everything, how lovely it looked- all of it was messy and scattered and blended. He felt tears burn sharp in the corners of his eyes. “I-I’m sorry,” he gets out, “I fell on the way up... i-it didn’t look like that earlier, honest.”

Zeff just stares down at it, brows furrowed and face stoic. He reaches into the lunchbox for one of the chicken wings and takes a hearty bite out of it without saying a word. Sanji watches, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Is it okay..?”

Zeff swallows the mouthful before looking to his son, giving him the biggest smile. Sanji feels his chest swell with pride. 

“It’s better than okay, kid. It’s delicious.”

“Really?!” Sanji doesn’t even remember that he was crying anymore; his face is bright with excitement and he scoots a little closer to Zeff, anticipating his input. 

“Really. You cooked it to where it’s just crispy enough to my liking, but it’s not overwhelming. Did you really do all of this by yourself?”

He beams with pride, putting his hands on his hips. “I sure did.”

Zeff reaches over with a clean hand and ruffles Sanji’s hair, getting an annoyed groan out of the young chef. He can only laugh as he pulls him closer, giving him what can probably be considered one of Zeff’s rare hugs.

“Happy birthday, Papa.”

“Thank you, little eggplant. Thank you.”


End file.
